This blog explores the corporal punishment of beautiful but naughty girls using the birch and cane, but other instruments too. The birch is the focus but this vintage implement of severe girlish punishment is rarely found nowadays so the cane, which took over from the birch, and also the paddle are included. All models are over 18, proof on file. Enjoy.

Tuesday, 18 March 2014

The Birchings Continue...

Altea was punished here. Why not download this and add your own ideal pics for Beatrice.

Just as
with Altea, Beatrice's dress and chemise were ripped from her body, and then
her camisole. A gasp of admiration greeted the appearance of her naked breasts
with their soft, pink, crinkly nipple buds and their wide, dark-coral circles
which limned those succulent titties.

She knew
the futility of pleading to retain her drawers, but all the same she could not
refrain from bursting into poignant tears when the young assistant ripped that
final veil from her as she stood there, arching on tiptoes to ease the strain
on her arms and shoulders, naked save for stockings, rosette garters and shoes,
at the whipping post.

Beatrice's
bottom was magnificently rotund in its exuberant but flawlessly proportioned
contours. It was a bottom that fairly cried out for the rod, and Master Dickon
deliberated over it for a considerable period of time before he finally walked
to the buckets and selected the instrument he meant to use on Beatrice's naked posteriors.

Beatrice
seemed to try to hold her breath, and she clenched herself tightly and arched
herself forward, so the dark golden curls which hid her plump, soft, virgin
cunt could be hidden by the whipping post. But she could not control the
sporadic agitation of her naked titties, which rose and fell with increasing turbulence
as she heard Master Dickon move about her.

For her
broader, rounder bottom, he had selected a heavier birch. Placing his hand on
the nape of her neck, he growled, “One and twenty, and you shall count them
yourself to see that I'm accurate, wench!”

Laying
the rod across the broadest part of Beatrice's behind, the Executioner kept the
poor girl in suspense a long moment, until he finally drew back his arm and
dealt her a sweeping cut across the top of her thighs. Beatrice had not been
expecting this, and the atrocious burn and agony of that perfidious cut drew a
scream of pain from her, as she tried uselessly to jerk free. The second lash
caught her across the shoulder blades and drew a strangled scream and a
convulsive twisting about of her naked body. But Master Dickon had been jesting
when he had told her to call out the count: it was his own official task to
make sure the royal edict was carried out to the letter.

“Two!” he
announced. Then, leaning toward the whimpering Beatrice, “I'm going to make that
bottom of yours jump my girl. It's a superb backside, made for a good birching.
I warrant, had your mother and father dealt you such when you were a child, you
would not be here then dawning!”

Before
the unfortunate, naked blonde could speak, Master Dickon had applied the lash
squarely across the base of both huddling bottom globes. Beatrice Digby lunged
forward with a choking cry, twisting her face over her shoulder to stare
piteously at the executioner, while her fingers clawed the air.

One could
hear the panting, heavy breathing of the spectators in the loges and in the
windows beyond the scaffold. Master Dickon showed his full artistry now.
Sometimes he would prolong the moment of waiting to a full minute, while poor
Beatrice Digby whimpered softly, “Oh, my God, finish it, finish it!”

Again, he
would lay two or three quick lashes on without pausing, but each attacking her
at a different vulnerable and tender area of her pink-sheened body. One blow
bit against the middle of her backside, the tips of the switches whisking round
to sting her flanks. The very next, with scarcely any pause, slashed diagonally
from left to right over the huddling hillocks of her underbum. A third, with
hardly a pause, attacked the upper curves of her shuddering thighs. She began
to caper from foot to foot, desperately trying to escape the burning lashes of
the birch.

By the
tenth lash, her cries were louder and shriller than poor, weeping Altea's. Out
of the first ten strokes, Master Dickon had laid six over the jutting roundities
of her velvety smooth bottom-globes. Their contractions, their yawning and
shrinking uncontrollably, provided a salacious treat for the lusty males in the
eager audience. And for the executioner himself, as well, for though Master
Dickon was a bachelor and shunned by women who knew his occupation, there were
times when he would journey to some remote village in the provinces to carry
out the execution of some notable culprit, and then he would act the gallant
with some none-too-discerning tavern wench or farmer's daughter.

His eyes
blazed with lust through the slits of the hood and he resumed Beatrice's
flogging. The last ten cuts were mercilessly prolonged to almost a full minute
between stripes. Nine of them fell on that shuddering, welted, squirming,
jerking bare bottom, and the last slashed across the tops of Beatrice's
straining and flexing thighs, tearing from her a veritable yell of frantic,
intolerable suffering.

Sweat
glistened on her welted body as she sagged from the whipping post, head bowed,
knees bending. Her buttocks were livid now, the stripes turning from crimson
almost to purple. The birch rods were frayed and a profusion of twigs lay
scattered on the floor beneath the writhing, inflamed burning bottom.

The two
naked ladies-in-waiting who had received their birching, Beatrice Digby and Altea
Balmadge, lay on their sides, their wrists bound behind their backs, naked
except for their hose and garters and shoes, to one side of the whipping post.
Their groans and tears and lamentations could be heard in the uneasy silence of
the royal court yard. And now it was the turn of the ringleader, the beautiful
twenty-three-year-old Ariel, whose temperament was as fiery as her hair and who
now would be called upon to prove her courage. She could see the eyes of the
spectators greedily staring at the two squirming, shamefully naked bodies, she
could see the creamy skin of Altea marked with the now livid welts of the
birching, and the soft pink skin of Beatrice, that exquisite blonde with such a
gentle and docile nature, angrily striated. They were past caring now that they
showed their pussies and bumholes to the gloating spectators, for not only had
shame crushed them but the atrocious pain of the flogging had attenuated their
sexual excitement.

About Me

I have always been fascinated by beautiful girls' bottoms, whether in really tight clothing like jeans or revealingly nude. And of course I am a dedicated Spanko!
I favor the cane and the birch for dealing with deserving girls, and appreciate the alluring and intimately revealing positions they assume to receive well-deserved punishment. And I also find beautiful lesbians very exciting. Hence my blogs. Enjoy.